


Till it happens to you

by Anneofnyc



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 10:18:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5704045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anneofnyc/pseuds/Anneofnyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She couldn't explain. She could rant, cry, sob, scream, shout, break. But she couldn't explain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Till it happens to you

**Author's Note:**

> TW- No depiction of the actual assault. Nothing very explicit, no flashbacks or description of trauma, but please proceed with caution nonetheless. 
> 
> It's set as a College AU with all of them being friends. Not much of a plot. Somewhat rambly.

Matt had realised over a course of time, and experiences mostly bad, that silence held a lot of weight. People usually appreciate the peace, the eventual healing or even the bliss of effortless resolution of problems. The latter of course, just meant burying the difficult things so that they wouldn’t have to deal with it.

But more than that, Matt knew that silence also meant a space. A small, empty warm space where people felt secure. And sometimes, something not nearly that high on Maslow’s pyramid, turned out to be severely deficient.

He kept quiet as Karen continued to desperately rein in her panic beside him. Her dry hands rasping and chafing as she twisted them on her lap. He could swear, at that moment, that fear was very much a sentient entity. Choking her and pushing her inwards. He could feel it so fiercely that he had to break the silence, even just for a bit.

“Is it okay if I- if I hold your hand, Karen?” Karen let out a tragic snort a second later before speaking, “Yeah… um I just nodded. Sorry.”

Matt smiled a bit and slowly reached her hands, trying his best aim so that he wouldn’t touch her elsewhere.

“Is this okay?”

“Hm-hmm.”

He could hear her choppy inhales and exaggerated chest movements shifting her chiffon top as she tried to say something. It was another few minutes of silence before her voice rang out.

“I don’t know what to- do. Or feel.” Her voice grew thick and she had to swallow, “Or say. I don’t. This isn’t. Isn’t. Matt?”

“Yeah Karen.”

He loosened his hold on her hand and then engulfed them again. A reassurance.

“I haven’t showered for four days.”

Matt had smelled it on her and it wasn’t a hard guess even without it. Karen had hardly moved from her cot the whole week. He didn’t want her to feel bad or embarrassed about it. He just nodded.

“Do you want to take one now? I can wait outside. You can lock your room from the inside. Whatever- whatever you feel like.”

She was shaking her head vigorously. Stiff greasy hair brushing against her hoodie.

“I’m just. I don’t know how to- I just keep thinking somebody’s at the back of me. Somebody’s going to break in the door. I know it’s not. Doesn’t make sense but…”

“Karen, it doesn’t have to make sense to me. To anybody. What would make you feel safe? I’m just… I’m here okay? If you’ll be more comfortable with someone else, we’ll do that. I can call Foggy. or we can wait for Claire. There are no rules here, okay?”

“Okay. Okay. Um… if we could keep the room door locked and. And you could stay here? And uh… I’m going to lock the bathroom door behind me. So you’re here but not. Not. Just. I think that may be okay?”

The hesitant and meek voice from Karen was jarring in its novelty. It was another thing that made Matt reconsider even trying to help. He was so unequipped, so inadequate and… and a man. He only hoped he wasn’t worsening the situation.

“Yeah, ofcourse… if that’s what you wa- are comfortable with. I could I dunno… talk? While you’re in there? So you’d know that I’m here… talking.” He winced and briefly added ‘complete failure at being a sophisticated lawyer-in-making’ to his list of why he was the worst person for the job.

“No no…” Karen laughed and then sniffed, “that sounds like it should help. Really… I’m just gonna…”

She got up and walked to the door. Presumably to check if it was locked and then she went around gathering things for her shower.

“Okay. Um… I won’t be long.”

“I live with Foggy, Karen. I’m sure you can’t beat his record of 78 minutes. Just go at your own pace, I’ll read the torts class notes out and get some studying done.”

Perhaps Karen smiled at his lame attempt at humour, maybe she didn’t. But the past hour had definitely taken its toll on Matt. He pressed his fingers into his eyes, desperately trying not to think or feel. It was a losing battle but he managed to stop the spiral within a minute.

He had already printed the notes in Braille so he could read it out. He cleared his throat and started with the introduction. He doubted Karen could make out the words clearly, with the noise of the shower and the locked door in between. But he knew the point wasn’t distraction but that somebody she trusted was around. That she was safe for the moment.

He kept on reading and interjecting relevant points in between as Karen exited the bathroom. She’d dressed up fully inside the bathroom but seemed to lose steam faster than Matt could react. She sat on her bed and cocooned herself with her thick blanket.

He kept his note aside, smelling her aloe shampoo and cucumber body lotion. Karen liked nice things, in direct contrast to Matt. She liked things that smelled nice, felt soft, tasted good. She wore feminine well-fitted clothes and colourful heels that often made her look taller than all of them. She was brazen about enjoying life. It had seemed obscene to Matt’s upbringing in a Catholic orphanage when they’d first met. He knew better now.

The shampoo had been his birthday gift to her. Organic and excessively expensive. The familiar smell in this instance was a comfort. He waved a hand in the general direction of the table that contained a hotplate.

“I could make something? You haven’t had breakfast.” He tactfully omitted the fact that Claire had said she hadn’t had a proper meal that whole week. Just packets of potato chips and rarely, a cup of ramen.

“Not really hungry.” She mumbled into her knees.

“Okay.”

She was in her own bed now and Matt missed the connection. Suddenly bereft of the little cues that helped him navigate earlier, he tried to think to think of anything to talk. Wondering if asking her outright would help matters or scare her away.

“What do wanna ask, Matt?” Okay so he had to work on his poker face. He schooled his features to something more open and less unsure.

“If there’s something else I could do. If you wanted to talk. About. Anything.” He cursed himself again. His eloquence was apparently reserved for academics and assholes. He always seemed to struggle when it came to emotions and affection. He’d always admired Claire’s ham-handed way of dealing with them. Blunt, tactless and eventually extremely effective. Foggy was even better. Open and empathetic in a way that engendered honesty and strong relationships.

“No. I’m okay. Maybe later.”

And then there was Karen. Always so competitive in everything, extending it to Matt’s previously exclusive skills of evasion and emotional constipation. They made a sad pair.

Matt sighed and picked up his Contracts notebook.

 

* * *

 

 

Foggy came bearing gifts. Well, a lot of food. Gifts, like he said.

Between him and Matt, they managed to bundle up Karen and drag her to their room. He would like to brag it was his wit and charm, but Karen had just been too tired and resigned. It was heartbreaking to see her so dishevelled in place of her usual immaculate hair and makeup.

They chattered away about classes and teachers. Specifically ones that often forgot to give proper handouts for Matt. The well worn topic eventually made Karen participate in nearly full gusto. The vegetable noodle soup with garlic bread that Foggy and Matt mustered up helped grease things too.

There were still hours to go before Claire returned from her clinical hours. All three were huddled on Matt’s bed, insulated from the world and all its threats. Frittering away hours on Foggy’s illegal downloads. Matt made his usual remarks about law and hypocrisy.

“But atleast I’m no leecher, Matt!”

It was nice and comfy in a way that Karen had thought wouldn’t ever be possible. All that darkness and shame had trampled out every shred of hope from her heart. The relief was overwhelming in a way that she welcomed.

Suddenly Matt was holding out a box of tissues in front of her. Foggy was rubbing her shoulder with his thumb, looking concerned.

“Thanks.” She muttered, taking the box. The cheap rough texture seemed to further irritate her skin. Her eyes just wouldn’t stop. And both Matt and Foggy were looking more anxious with time.

“I’m okay guys. I am.” She tried to reassure them, still crying incessantly.

“I just- I thought I’d be stuck there forever. And…” she hiccupped. Matt brushed her frizzy bangs away and kneaded at her head gently.

“We’re here to listen, Karen. It’s okay.”

“And I can’t think or feel or see anything. Anything beyond the shame and anger. I want to break. And just stop. And I- can’t look at corners and shadows and not see threats. Everywhere. God, I’m so messed up!” she sobbed.

Foggy let her hide her face on his shoulder. She couldn’t help it, she cried. Loud and messy. Violent even. Unlike the past week that she spent crying in her pillow and inside the bathroom. Keeping quiet and suffocating. Like life had left her. Devastated that an act of physical aggression and invasion could make her feel robbed of everything that made a human being.

She couldn’t explain how it made her feel worthless. Less than a scrap of paper people usually scribble on and throw away. She couldn’t explain how she couldn’t find bits of herself. How the pain howled inside her like a storm when she’d spend her sleepless nights in quiet terror. And she couldn’t explain why a blanket, a cup of soup and an old movie made her feel like she was a person again. That she existed. That she mattered. She couldn’t.

So she let herself be surrounded by her friends who cared about her.

Who cried with her.

Hoping that one day it will let her breathe without feeling she was taking up space.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Very obviously inspired by Lady Gaga's 'Till it happens to you'. She was a phenomenal woman even before this song but her haunting rendition of the song and also the story she shared of her own rape has definitely been very inspiring to me.
> 
> This fic is less about writing or even the fandom but just needed to let some feelings out. I very probably will write more of this. But for now this is a one shot. And please excuse any errors. I wrote this in a short time before really thinking it out.


End file.
